


Friends First

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, cautious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 22:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt: 'May I please request a John Lennon/reader fic in which reader works for the Beatles (something like Freda, I guess?Vagueness is fun), knows John is a bad idea, and thus sardonically shuts him down every time he tries to crack her professional exterior? Then one day, she cracks without meaning to?'Awww!





	Friends First

“‘ey, love.”

Paul claps his hand on your shoulder absently as he wanders past, and you look up from the stack of paper.

“Early start for you, innit?” he asks, and you shrug.

“Shit to do,” you yawn, and he ruffles your hair. “Did you wet the bed?”

“Hey, got a wake-up call an’ all so I could keep yeh company.” You grin, and he sits next to you. “Yeh know, I can see how… uncomfortable yeh are around John.” You shrug, suddenly very interested in your paperwork, and he pats your shoulder. “It’s okay-”

“ _Good mornin-_ ” John stops in the doorway, and you look up at him. “Dickhead. And (Y/N).” You nod tightly, and he glares at Paul. “Was gonna sit in an’ keep yeh company…”

“Well, yeh can toddle off into the fuckin’ sun, can’t yeh.” Paul’s arm slides around your shoulders; you just dip your head and keep working, and there’s footsteps in the distance and a door slamming before Paul lets go.

“Don’t worry, Paul. But thank you.” Your voice seems weirdly loud, and he shakes his head.

“‘E’s too… pushy with birds, isn’t he?”

You nod, and sigh. Truth is – you were flattered by the attention at first, but the more of John that you saw, the more you saw that it was a bad idea to be on his list. He’s… there’s a lot more to him than you thought, and you aren’t sure if you can handle it, even if you want to. Plus – he’s not exactly the best at commitment.

“I’ll just finish this up.” Paul squeezes your arm and stands up, clicking the kettle on.

“Brew, love?”

“Please.” You rest your head on the table, and then mumble to yourself.  _Goddamnit, John._

* * *

“Why are yeh ignoring me?”

You freeze in the doorway, and turn – you were just heading out to hand the latest bunch of papers to Brian, but he wasn’t in his office. Sadly, his office is near where John likes to perch and criticise everyone. You should’ve been more careful.

“I’m not ignoring you.” You try to walk away, and his hand grabs your wrist. “John-”

“I want to talk to yeh. Nothing else,” he says, sounding almost plaintive, and you stop, turning around. “Why… yeh’ve been so awkward with me, like. Please.”

“I… I don’t really have time,” you whisper, and he closes his eyes.

“Are yeh fuckin’ Paul? Because if yeh are, I’m not gonna be mad!”

“I’m not!” you say, sharply, and pull your hand away. “I just… I…” He looks so defensive but so small – like a hedgehog trying to fight a car. “I’m not interested in him, John.”

“Then why are yeh avoidin’ me?!” he asks. “What did I do?”

“You’re bad news, John! That’s what. You’re bad news, and I- ” You are so close to saying something you really regret, and you close your mouth. “I cannot let myself be close to you, as it will be lethal, professionally, and personally.”

You turn away, and storm down the corridor, and realise he isn’t following you – you wish he was, and that makes it worse.

* * *

 _Click_.

You look up, and a cup of tea sets down next to you – you follow the arm holding it, and look into John’s dark eyes.

“Made yeh this. And was hoping we could have a chat. Not… like… about romantic shit, like.” You watch him warily. “Oh, for God’s sake, don’t look at me like I ate a baby, yeh…”

“What do you want to talk about?” you say warily, and he sits next to you.

“Us. Like… maybe we can be mates,” he says, warily. “And maybe you can see I’m not that bad, yeh?” You exhale, and he strokes your arm where your sleeve covers it, which you find astonishingly respectful. “I’m not sayin’ yeh have to date me. I’m sorry if I seemed… pushy, love. But I’m here. If yeh want to talk.”

“I-if you wanted to keep me company,” you begin, and he looks at you. “I would like that.” He exhales, and then smiles at you, and you slide the paper over to him. “Are you aware this is how much we spent answering fanmail?”

He looks at the paper, and his eyes widen.

“Jesus. What’s all this stuff?” he asks, and as you begin to explain, you hope this can be a good start.


End file.
